


A Bun (Well, Cookies) in the Oven

by EachPeachPearPlum



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bad Cooking, Baking, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Good Intentions, Planned Pregnancy, Pregnancy, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:54:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24950398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EachPeachPearPlum/pseuds/EachPeachPearPlum
Summary: Pepper is tired, achy, and has had more than enough of people telling her she's glowing. Fortunately, Tony is a genius, and knows just how to cheer her up.It's just a pity cooking isn't one of his strengths.
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark
Comments: 5
Kudos: 56
Collections: Ladies of Marvel Bingo 2019, Peach’s TSB 2020 works, Tony Stark Bingo 2020





	A Bun (Well, Cookies) in the Oven

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little bit of domestic Tony/Pepper fluff, to fill the following bingo squares:
> 
> **Title:** A Bun (Well, Cookie) in the Oven  
>  **Collaborator Name:** eachpeachpearplum  
>  **Card Number:** 3027  
>  **Link:** https://archiveofourown.org/works/24950398  
>  **Square Filled:** S5 - Tony Stark/Pepper Potts (TSB), M4 - "Here is a cookie, now stop being grumpy." (LMB)  
>  **Ship/Main Pairing:** Tony Stark/Pepper Potts  
>  **Rating:** General  
>  **Major Tags:** Fluff, so much fluff, pregnancy, baking  
>  **Summary:** Pepper is tired, achy, and has had more than enough of people telling her she's glowing. Fortunately, Tony is a genius, and knows just how to cheer her up. (It's just a pity cooking isn't one of his strengths.)  
>  **Word Count:** 1214
> 
> Thank you to Politzania for the speedy beta :)

Pepper doesn’t know how she got like this.

By ‘this,’ she doesn’t mean pregnant, because she knows full well how that happened. There was a whole lot of discussion involved, a whole lot of trying to discourage Tony from reading every single piece of information that has ever been compiled about conception in the entirety of human history, then a whole lot of the fun stuff, and now, a year and a half after that ridiculous dream Tony had, here they are, 38 weeks pregnant.

There’s nothing mysterious at all about how she got pregnant (and thank God for that, because in Tony’s line of work pregnancies of either mysterious or mystical origins aren’t entirely beyond the realm of possibility). The mystery is why the hell she decided she wanted to.

Everything aches, and that’s barely an exaggeration. There’s a parasitic life form sitting on her bladder and kicking her in the kidneys every twenty minutes, and she hasn’t been able to shave her legs or tie her own shoelaces in months (the no leg-shaving thing isn’t that bad, really, and Tony’s either not noticed or doesn’t care about it, but needing someone to fasten her shoes for her is intolerable). Possibly worse than all the rest is the fact that her hormones are refusing point blank to behave themselves; this morning, Pepper found herself sobbing over the empty milk carton Tony left on the counter.

Oh, and the next time someone tells her she’s glowing, Pepper is going to give in to Tony’s insistence that he builds her a suit so that she can repulsor blast them in the face.

She knows she’ll love their baby when he or she arrives, but as far as Pepper’s concerned there’s nothing wonderful or magical or even the slightest bit positive about pregnancy itself and the only way their kid is getting a sibling is if Tony figures out a way for him to be the one who gets knocked up.

Speaking of Tony…

“Did you get lost on the way to the kitchen…?” she calls, because he offered to get her another cup of tea fifteen minutes ago and has yet to come back.

He doesn’t answer for long enough that Pepper starts to think he actually has got lost, or – more likely – he put the kettle on, got distracted by thoughts of his latest project and followed the siren call of the workshop he’s building beneath the garage. Pepper is very much considering _not_ hauling her huge belly out of her comfortable chair to get her own damn drink, but she was thirsty when Tony left and she’s even more so now.

“Tony?” she prompts, louder this time, figuring it’s worth trying again before she gets up. She counts the seconds as they pass, making it most of the way through the extra minute she’s decided to give him before there’s a noise from the kitchen.

It is, if Pepper’s not very much mistaken, the sound of a baking tray being removed from the oven; she tries very hard to convince herself this isn’t something to be concerned about, but it’s not the first time he’s decided to use inside appliances for what ought to be outside science and Pepper does not want another tapioca incident.

“Ow,” she hears Tony say, which isn’t at all promising. “Jesus, hot, ow-”

Whatever else he’s chanting is drowned out by the sound of running water; Pepper begins the lengthy process of levering herself out of her chair, then goes to investigate, bracing herself for some kind of disaster.

To her surprise, it’s not that bad. There’s a dusting of flour across the counter and floor, a couple of broken eggshells on the pantry shelf (where they have absolutely no business being), and a heap of dirty dishes by the sink, but Pepper was prepared for a lot worse.

Her brilliant idiot of a husband is holding his hand under the faucet, still muttering under his breath, and Pepper heads over there to assess the damage.

“It’s fine,” he says, as Pepper takes his hand in both of hers, inspecting it for any kind of damage. “I’m okay, Pep, really.”

There’s a patch of slightly reddened skin at the base of his thumb but that looks to be the extent of the damage, so for once he doesn’t seem to be dangerously downplaying an injury. “Okay, good,” she says, relaxing a little now that she’s no longer concerned about either his wellbeing or the prospect of having to spend the night in the ER with him. “In that case, I suggest you explain to me what it is you were doing.”

In answer, Tony pulls free of her hands and turns around, making his way across the kitchen to the oven. “Um,” he says, then there’s a brief pause and a deep breath that Pepper just knows is going to be followed by an absolute torrent of words. “I was only going to make you tea, but you were tired and you keep saying Morgan is like an energy vacuum, so I thought, you know, food! Maybe something sweet would help, a bit of sugar to cheer you up, put the pep back in Pepper, you know? Fri found me a recipe she said was idiot-proof and I figured, _how hard can it be?_ Mix everything together, stick blobs of it on a tray, shove it in the oven, take it out before it starts to smell like burning. Easy.”

He’s clearly got the theory figured out just fine, Pepper thinks, but she’s also very certain knowing just the theory isn’t doing him a whole lot of good right now.

“But…?” she prompts, because he’s definitely ended the story before he got to the bit where he explains his burnt hand and whatever the hell is stuck to the baking tray in front of them.

“But idiot-proof is clearly not the same thing as genius-proof?” he offers, giving her a ridiculously hopeful grin. “I was in a hurry, so I figured I could up the temperature to cut the baking time, only it didn’t work the way it obviously should have, and then you completely ruined my brilliant plan to hide the evidence by coming to investigate so if you think about it you’re really just as responsible as I am.”

“I am?” Pepper asks, though thankfully Tony has the good sense to realise it’s rhetorical. “Interesting.”

Tony looks at her, then at the baking tray covered in cookie blobs that are both charred black and so undercooked they’re still runny, then back to her again, and Pepper has to take pity on him.

“Okay,” she says. “New plan. Morgan and I are going to sit back down, I’ll pretend I never saw any of this, and then in twenty minutes you’re going to come through with my cup of tea, two spoons, and that tub of ice cream you think I don’t know you’ve got hidden in the back of the freezer. How does that sound?”

“Perfect,” Tony tells her, looking relieved as he darts in to kiss her on the cheek. His palm rests briefly on her bump, and Morgan makes a valiant (though thankfully unsuccessful) attempt to high five him through her belly. “Just perfect.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, please let me know.
> 
> If you want to, you can find me on tumblr as [dreaminglypeach](https://dreaminglypeach.tumblr.com/).


End file.
